Can we uncover the beauty once again?
Dark in its pain like a bloodstained journal
The tortured one, exposed to incandescent rays
Discarding the days in favor of those nights
Far above the distant lights; too close to the judging skies
Detached from kind we chose a new road
Record player spun an ode to those who worried for me
My fascination with misery collects deep in my room
Gaunt features designed to bloom, it was doomed from the start
But you held the line that led to poetic causation
The desolate train station that beats soft and slow
You could never get me to go back to that lonely chamber
He who is rooted in anger will die by its very hand
To become a line in the sand on a populated shore
You forgot what you died for and yet the fact stands true
A torture which remains in you, is only yours